Justin Taylor:  Man in Tights
by Predec2
Summary: Justin takes extreme measures to persuade Brian to attend an event; will he succeed? Definitely fluff this time!
1. Sir Twat

_**A/N: This one is most definitely not a serious piece - LOL! Not sure if I should actually continue it beyond the one-shot to include the actual event - thoughts?**_

* * *

_Thursday Evening, Brian's Loft_

"Forsooth, Master Kinney! It is _I_, _Prince_ Taylor!"

Brian stopped dead in his tracks, not even attempting to turn around after closing the door to his loft. The man's voice he just heard _kind of _sounded like Justin, except for two somewhat minor details: the man's voice had an English accent – and a _terrible_, _cheesy _one at that, and the words the man was speaking were apparently in a _foreign language_, because he had no IDEA what the man was saying. _Sore tooth? New suit? On second thought, he could _always _USE a new Armani suit….._

Against his better judgement, he slowly turned around to confront the Justin impersonator that had apparently sneaked into his loft. The man staring back at him with blue eyes flashing in mischief, giggling, was wearing "normal" clothes of a long-sleeved, cotton, mint-green tee-shirt and a pair of dark-blue jeans, but he _also _was adorned with a royal blue, felt hat with a feather that was reminiscent of those worn by Robin Hood and his Merry Men back in the days when Errol Flynn was secretly gay but only wanted to DRESS like he was.

"What in the _hell_ is THAT? And where is _Sir Twat_?" Brian eyed the other man warily, cautiously approaching him as he placed his briefcase down on the desk nearby; he never took his eyes off the restless intruder bouncing lightly up and down on his feet, the feather dipping in perfect synchronization as he tried to greet his partner.

"Ha, ha, _Master Kinney_," the man replied mirthfully, still speaking in his awful English accent. "_Prince Taylor_ is right here, milord!" He suddenly went into an _en guarde_ mode as he placed one foot in front of the other and held out an imaginary sword. "Ready to defend your _honor, Sir!"_ He swished his imaginary "sword" around in front of the other man and jumped lightly on his feet toward the brunet, who immediately burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

"What have you been _taking_ while I've been at work, _Prince Horny_?" he asked in bemusement. He slowly walked toward the other man, as Justin placed his imaginary sword against his chest and bowed deeply.

"Nothing, milord," he said huffily, appearing offended. "Ye truly wound me, sir….."

Brian shook his head, unsure just what to make of this…_creature_ standing in front of him. He leaned in closer to the man who _looked _like Justin (well, _sort of_, anyway), _smelled_ like Justin (except for the slightly musky smell apparently coming from the feather on his head), and _sounded_ like Justin (well, if you overlooked the horrible attempt at an English accent), and asked, "Okay…..no quick moves and no one will get hurt…..Just hand the twink over and I'll let you escape….."

"Ow!" Brian pulled his hand back and shook it to try and alleviate the sting that the other man's slap had caused. He placed his hands on his hips now and glared back at _Sir Whatever-the-Fuck_ before growling out, "Okay, _Prince Horny_, or WHATEVER you are…what is this all _about_?" He had had a shit day and was really in no mood to confront this Elizabethan has-been. _Well, I'll say ONE thing for you, PRINCE HORNY, you certainly aren't predictable….._

Justin finally doffed his "Steal from the Rich and Give to the Poor" hat and cradled it under his free arm as he bowed once more and replied, "Very well...As you wish, milord." He reached in his jeans pocket and removed a folded brochure before holding it somewhat anxiously for Brian to take.

As Brian accepted the slick, color brochure and unfolded the contents, Justin looked over expectantly, waiting for the predicted response. He didn't have long to wait.

"No _FUCKING WAY_, Sir _Get Real_!" Brian erupted, shaking his head vigorously. "I would not be caught DEAD at a fucking Renaissance Festival! Not now, not _ever!_ Capiche? If you really want to satisfy _Master Kinney, _get your horny little ass over to the bed and service HIS sword for a change!" All this talk of "horns" was making him horny himself, and he figured after the stressful day he had had at Kinnetik, the least his horny little _Prince_ could do was take care of HIS problem.

Justin stood there, glaring at him, his hands crossed over his chest in extreme disappointment. Could the man ever do what _HE_ wanted to do? _Well, if he wasn't going to play nice, neither was he….._

"Well, I'm sorry, Sir_ Thinks Too Much of Himself and No One Else,"_ he retorted now in his normal tone of voice as he stared back steely-eyed at his partner, all playfulness gone. "But my _horny little ass_ is out of commission at the moment!" He threw his feathered hat down on the kitchen counter and stomped over to the couch, throwing himself down on the cushion in a frustrated huff.

Brian stood there at the counter, wondering which _Twilight Zone_ episode he had just walked into. Whatever possessed him to take up residence with this…this _enigma_? This _Sir Pouts a Lot?_ Oh, yeah….he managed to fall in LOVE with Sir Twat. Still, there was NO way he would ever set foot at a fucking Renaissance festival, no matter WHO asked him…..

He sighed as he walked over to the living room area and stood facing his partner, who wouldn't even look up from his sulking position in the middle of the couch. "Justin…." he began quietly; surely the man could understand why he couldn't even _entertain_ the thought of going to Pittsburgh's annual Renaissance Festival? After all, he had a _reputation_ to maintain. "Why don't you ask Emmett to go with you if you want to go that badly? _Sir Clear Day_ would fit right in there," he said, smirking. _The man could just come as he was - no need to get all dressed up._

Justin shook his head, keeping his eyes cast downward. "Sir _Clear Day_ is on _sabbatical_ at Virginia Beach, _MILORD_," he said icily. "Besides, I didn't want HIM to go – I wanted YOU to go."

Brian rolled his eyes; what would it take to get a royal FUCK around this _castle_? He figured there was ONE way to get it, but there was NO WAY he would agree to THAT. "Well, take Lady Daphne, then," he suggested, holding his hands out in hopeful reconcilation.

Justin snorted. "_Lady Daphne_'s on vacation with her boyfriend in Vermont again. At least _someone_ gets to take vacations from time to time," he added sarcastically; the dig wasn't lost on his partner, who shook his head in disgust.

Thoroughly annoyed now, he came to a firm decision as he told his lover exasperatingly, "Just fucking _forget it_, then, Sir Twat!" He shook his head once more and grunted a sound of defeat. "I'm going to go take a shower in the _Royal Bathing Chamber_," he announced. He twisted his tie to loosen it before abruptly turning around and silently padding toward the walk-in shower - _alone_.

Twenty minutes later, relegated to jacking himself off under the water to get some relief, he finally emerged from the heavy glass shower stall and, after drying himself off, trudged naked back to the bedroom, stopping in his tracks as he spied _Sir Twat_ standing near the king-sized bed in an outfit he had never seen before.

His mouth hung open and his eyes darkened with lust as he scrutinized the hot blond standing there with a ruffled, satin, ice-blue flouncy shirt cinched at the waist and a pair of extremely constricting, nylon royal-blue tights that hid absolutely _NOTHING_ to the imagination. Brian's cock, which had just been "serviced" at his own hand in the shower, immediately began to harden again as his eyes drunk in the luscious specimen standing there with an extremely smug expression on his face. _Sir Twat, indeed…._

"What the fuck do you think you're _doing_ in THAT?" he asked, his voice raspy and suspicious as he raked his gaze up and down at the unbelievable sight in front of him. _Me thinks something stinketh here…., _he thought with wary trepidation.

Justin simply shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just a new outfit I bought, that's all. You _like_ it?" he asked innocently, as he turned around slowly - VERY slowly - to give Brian a good look at his ass, whose perfectly-rounded, deliciously curved globes were straining against the tight shiny fabric of the _royal tights_. "I know how much you like _tights_," he added, licking his lips slowly as a small bit of pink tongue poked out before finally disappearing back into the full, pouty mouth, much to Brian's disappointment.

Brian couldn't help the gaze that wandered down from the pale skin of Justin's neck at the open-collared shirt, to his slender chest molded perfectly against the slick fabric, and, last but most definitely NOT least, the tights that seemed to be painted onto the man's straining cock.

"Uh….." he began glibly; he could have sworn he heard a distinct snicker coming from _Sir Twat_ before he cleared his throat to try and stretch together a cohesive sentence. "It's….._okay_," he finally managed to utter, his voice choking somewhat on the last word. _It was a hell of a lot MORE than okay…._

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to him just then. "Justin…ah, _Sir Twat_…..just WHY did you buy this new outfit?" He had a terrible suspicion, though, that he already KNEW the answer to that question.

Justin gave him a sort of _duh_ look before verifying, "What do you _think?_ I bought it for the Men in Tights competition at the Renaissance Festival. I've decided if YOU won't go, I'll just go by MYSELF. First prize is $500…..and no doubt all the men you could _fuck _comes with it_,_ too," he said haughtily, as he continued to stand there, his hands on his royal hips. He wasn't about to tell Brian, however, that the Men In Tights contest was ALSO part of the theme for that weekend - _Romance_. He wasn't THAT stupid.

The two men stood there, engaged in a mental battle of wits, before Brian sighed loudly in defeat. "Okay, _Sir Twat_, I'll fucking GO. But not before you take care of the problem you just created, _Sir Horny_."

Justin slowly smiled now, like the royal cat that had eaten the royal canary, as he studied the man's hard-as-dungeon-steel cock. "It will be my _pleasure_, Sire," he replied victoriously in his cheesy, English accent. "If you will help me remove my royal _tights_."


	2. Defending his Virtue

_Saturday Morning – 9:30 a.m._

"Justin?" Brian frowned as he emerged from the shower and dried his hair off with a thick towel. _Where did the MAN go? I just SAW him 15 minutes ago!_ As he finished drying off his body, he threw the towel in the hamper nearby and walked toward the bedroom, still trying to find his own personal _Sir Horny_.

At least Justin had lived up to his name the other night; he wasn't sure if it was because of all their talk about "horny this" or "horny that," but by the time he had helped him remove those skin-tight, ice-blue colored leotards that had clung so strongly to his partner's slender, pale legs, Brian was downright salivating. He found out they didn't call them _tights_ for nothing – they had left nothing to the imagination and had left him drooling. It was all he could do to restrain himself before impatiently peeling the satin tights down Justin's legs (the man wouldn't LET him tear them off, which would have been Brian's preferred method of disposal) and roughly pushing the blond down on their bed to fuck Sir Horny senseless all night long.

By the time morning had come, Brian would have agreed to do ANYTHING if it granted him a command performance; hence, here he stood debating what to wear to a, could he even THINK it? A _Renaissance Festival._ He shook his head in disbelief, wondering when _Sir Little Blond Twat_ had become so successful in talking him into doing things he would have never done before.

"You called, Sire?" he heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen area. Throwing on a nearby pair of jeans but not bothering to button them, he wandered into the main common area of the loft in a search for his own personal Court Jester before finally spying _Sir Twat a Lot_ emerging from behind the kitchen counter with a bowl of _Fruit Loops_. _Well, THAT certainly fits_, Brian couldn't help thinking; he stopped in his tracks, however, when he became aware of what Justin was wearing.

"Tell me you're NOT wearing that to the festival," Brian told him ominously. Justin had the same outfit on as he had worn the other day when he had managed to strong-arm him into agreeing to go today. There was NOTHING in that decision, however, that stated _Sir Twat_ would be wearing this provocative outfit on the way THERE; Brian figured he would be changing into it later for the contest.

Justin stood there in surprise, his hands on his chest – the chest that was displaying much too much skin for _Brian's _taste at the moment. "What do you THINK I would wear to a Renaissance Festival with a _Man in Tights_ contest?" he asked incredulously. "I'm afraid my chain mail is still at the cleaners, along with my chastity belt."

Brian glared back at his own little version of _Cock Robin_. "You didn't say you had to wear the outfit to _get in_," he countered. "And you've never owned a _chastity belt_ in your life."

"To your enormous relief," Justin replied. "Don't be such a spoilsport. If I wear the outfit IN, I get in for FREE. I'm going to say you $17.00."

Brian snorted. "Who said _I_ was going to pay for your blue little bubble butt to get in there in the _first place_?"

"Well, all the more so, then, _Sir Kinney_," Justin maintained. "Now you won't have to worry about it." He rolled his eyes. "Stop being so difficult. It's not like I'm asking you to go the guillotine or something. It's just a _renaissance festival_, for fuck's sake! Besides, I won't be the ONLY one competing in the _Men in Tights_ contest…..maybe you'll actually grow to LIKE it."

Brian considered that idea – walk amongst trolls that looked like rejects from a Robin Hood "B" movie, or ogling several men wearing skin-tight leotards? He winced. _Was there really much DIFFERENCE? Just because they're wearing tights didn't mean they SHOULD be wearing tights…..! _Thoughts of a portly, beer-bellied bald man wearing – gulp – bright green tights under a blousy, frilly shirt with bristled chest hairs sticking out almost made him sick to his stomach.

He shook his head, trying furiously to remove that gut-churning image from his head.

Justin could see his lover vacillating, even though he had promised Thursday night that he would go. "Brian, you _promised_," he pleaded, turning on his best puppy-dog-look for the man to see. "You don't want me to go _alone_, do you?"

Although Justin didn't say it out loud, Brian could hear the REST of that statement reverberating loudly in his head. _Wearing this…_

_Damn little manipulating fucker_. If he let Justin go there wearing that….that _outfit, _he would no doubt come back as _Sir Fucks a Lot_… "Okay, okay," Brian snarled. "SOMEONE has to protect your virtue."

He heard a distinctive snort as he whirled around and headed back to the bedroom to seek out a NORMAL shirt to wear. At least ONE of them wouldn't look like he just came out of a Halloween nightmare….

As he returned a couple of minutes later wearing a black, sleeveless wife-beater shirt over his jeans and a pair of expensive Gucci loafers, he walked up to Justin and crooked a long finger into the blond's rather _tight tights_. "Come on, _Sir Twat a Lot,_" he growled as he began to pull the younger man toward the door. "Your fucking carriage awaits."

Wearing a broad smile of triumph, Justin trotted along happily beside his Knight in Shining Armor as they walked out of the loft toward the elevator to begin their adventure back into Medieval times.

_

* * *

_

Thirty Minutes Later – 20 miles outside Pittsburgh

"Are we still in PENNSYLVANIA?" Brian groused as they passed nothing but corn fields on either side of the two-lane highway they were presently driving on. "I think I saw a sign back there for Wisconsin cheddar."

Justin rolled his eyes. "We've only been on the road for a half-hour, _Sir Out of Your Element,_" Justin countered. "You wouldn't expect a Renaissance Festival in downtown Pittsburgh, would you?" he asked reasonably.

Brian peered over at his _Little Boy Blue_ through his sunglasses as he replied, "I don't know _why_ _not_ – if they held it at the same time as the Pride Festival, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Ha, ha," Justin answered. "Then it's YOUR fault we're here in the FIRST place; if you hadn't insisted I go to the Pride Festival that year, I wouldn't have gotten the inspiration."

Brian snorted, aware that he wasn't going to win no matter WHAT argument he presented. He was stuck attending this farce whether he wanted to or not. He was about to complain that it was taking too long to reach their destination when his passenger excitedly grabbed his sleeve, almost causing the brunet to lose control of the 'Vette.

"Hey, watch it, _Sir Fruity!_ You almost made me run off the fucking road!" he snarled in irritation.

"Turn! Turn!" Justin squawked urgently like a blond-headed conure; to Brian's disappointment, he managed to swerve the car to the right to make the private-drive turn into the festival's entrance just in time; as he now slowed down to pay the rather scruffy-looking parking attendant the $2.00 parking fee, he shook his head in disgust. "You have to PAY to go through the _royal parking gate? _This is getting worse by the second!"

The muttering continued as Brian soon realized he not only had to pay, but he was paying money to park his 'Vette in a _field_.

As he shook his head in disbelief, Justin tried to make the best of the situation. "Hey, at least the field's dry – it hasn't rained in so long it's hard as a rock."

"Well, from the looks of things, that's the only thing that's going to be _hard_ around here," Brian retorted; as he looked around at the masses of people walking toward the festival's entrance garbed in what they thought were authentic-looking Elizabethan costumes, his dick seemed to deflate. The men were mainly overweight, balding, or much too prissy for his taste, and even if he WERE interested in _women_, they were all wearing so many layers of clothing it would take him a week just to get to the good parts.

As they stopped their vehicle and Brian turned the car off, Justin reached a hand over and firmly squeezed Brian's cock, which quickly began to harden at the blond's expert touch. "Well, it seems to be fully functional to _me_," Justin teased, smiling.

Brian quickly grabbed the wandering hand to still it as he bantered back, "Just remember, _Baby Blue_, you will owe me BIG TIME when we get back to the loft." Although, at that moment, Brian didn't think there were enough days in the rest of his life to EVER get payback for THIS favor.

Justin twisted his mouth in amusement. "I'll endeavor to do my best, _milord_," he replied in his terribly cheesy medieval accent. "Shall we be off, then?" he asked, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "Just remember we're parked in Row _Merlin_."

"Not just yet, _Sir Fancy Pants,_" Brian growled huskily, just before he used his advantage to pull Justin toward him and smash his lips against his for a bruising kiss. As they finally broke apart breathlessly several seconds later, he murmured in the blond's ear, "Just remember who those tighty-whites are coming back with later, you got it?"

Justin smirked, knowing despite the brunet's declaration of ownership, both of them knew who had the upper hand here. "Got it, _Sir Studly,"_ he dutifully replied before Brian released his hand and he reached for the passenger door to open it.

* * *

_A Few Minutes Later – Near the Front Gate_

Brian followed his blond little _Lancelot_ closely behind as he watched the blue-bedecked, skin-tight curved bubble butt sway as Justin tantalizingly walked in his costume. He had to admit – from back here, the view was spectacular. That was the _problem_, however; the man looked TOO good in that creamy white, satin flowing shirt open at the collar and those damn tights. Brian's breath hitched as he walked Justin walk; _Sir Horny_ was definitely living up to his name, because he was making Brian regret agreeing to let Justin come here in THAT outfit. He had an idea this was NOT going to be good….at least, not for HIM.

As they entered through the gate, he looked around furiously for a shop selling some type of weapon he could use against possible suitors. _Where was a SWORD shop when you NEEDED one?_ _Maybe a magic potion shop so I could buy a potion to use for warding off admirers of that luscious ass….._

"BRIAN!"

He started as he heard the exasperated voice of his partner nearby. _Had Justin been CALLING him_? "What? I'm NOT deaf, you know," he retorted curtly as he turned to face the amused object of his zoned out reverie.

Justin snorted. "You could have _fooled_ me. That was the _third_ time I called your name. What do you want to do _first_?" he asked his partner, who gave him a look as if he had just grown another head.

"You mean besides _leave_?" Brian growled. "This was YOUR idea, _Sir Prance-A-Lot_. You TELL me." Brian looked around, trying to figure out just what the fascination was. To him, it just looked like a primitive version of an amusement park; vendor's shops ringed both sides of the courtyard as apparently employees of the fair walked around trying to stay in character as they greeted visitors in what they _thought_ was an authentic-sounding, Elizabethan accent. Unfortunately, they weren't really succeeding; he noticed to his consternation that a great deal of the men were eyeing his partner intently as if he were the next tastiest thing on the menu after the jumbo turkey legs that were being peddled nearby.

Justin studied the brochure provided to them when they passed through the entrance gate. "There's a swordsman show right over there in 10 minutes," he told the brunet hopefully, who raised his eyes heavenward in a _Help me, Lord_ kind of look. As Justin noticed his partner's look of boredom, he added convincingly, "At least you'll get to sit down." He reached over and took Brian's hand to slowly pull him toward the wooden bleachers, which were quickly filling with curious visitors.

"Yeah," Brian quipped as he somewhat grudgingly allowed his partner to lead him toward his _torture chamber_. "If I'm lucky, maybe I'll leave with a _splinter_ in my ass as a souvenir."

Justin smiled, bemused, as he and his nylon-clad body gently pulled Brian toward the center aisle, parking himself down at the end of a nearby row; Brian turned around to make sure he wasn't going to sit in any bird shit before he gingerly lowered himself down onto the faded, wooden structure and tried to look nonchalant, although in his sleeveless, cotton shirt and jeans, he seemed distinctly out of place with the rest of the group, who almost consistently were dressed either in long, flowing peasant-style dresses or medieval knightly attire. He noticed to some surprise that several men were wearing outfits similar to Justin's, although he had to admit, just like in the Snow White tale, his own little blond knight was definitely the _hottest of them all_.

Deciding he'd better keep a close eye on _Sir Twink_, he glanced up as two men finally strolled onto the stage. He rolled his eyes as one of the men introduced himself as _Burke __Perfect_, while the no-doubt comedic foil he introduced to the crowd was named Edwardo Crescendo. _Just let me puke now and get it over with_, Brian thought dryly, as "Burke Perfect" proceeded to launch into what he thought was a witty comedy routine. He spared a momentary glance at their attire – green, crushed velour tights, v-necked flouncy shirts with puffed sleeves, and knee-high boots, before he decided perhaps there was more _interesting_ scenery nearby.

Vastly bored with the whole onstage presentation, he found himself nonetheless captivated as he glanced over at Justin who was sitting next to him, a look of utter delight on his face. His eyes were twinkling with joy and he wore a large smile as he listened attentively to the pair of men onstage, entranced. Brian shook his head fondly, amazed that Justin would find this so mesmerizing but finding himself enjoying watching _Justin_ enjoying what was happening onstage. _Crazy little (adorable) twat._

He watched as Justin laughed out loud at one of the men's jokes – the man calling himself Burke Perfect was telling the crowd, "We're _artistes._ Do you know what artistes mean? _Homeless_." As he ignored the lame attempt at humor, Brian thought silently to himself that if he lived to be a _hundred_, he would NEVER grow tired of his partner's smile that could always light up a room in an instant and steal his heart along with it.

He half-listened to what the buffoon on stage was saying as he thought he heard the man stating, "You know how to know if a man is _interested_ in someone? He walks as if he's in _pain_." The man then proceeded to walk in an exaggerated fashion toward the front of the stage as he seemed to stop directly in front of Justin's line of vision and stare down at him intently, even though he was spouting something to the young, blond woman in the row directly in front of his partner as he asked what her name was.

Thinking he was jumping to conclusions, _Burke Perfect_ then proceeded to rattle off some inane love poem addressing it to the woman in front, who was named Julia, but Brian noticed he didn't take his eyes off Justin the entire time he was reciting it.

Brian's eyes darkened with distrust and out-and-out hostility as he began to suspect the man onstage was saying _Julia_ but THINKING _Justin _as the man finally finished his poem with a flourish, whipping his feather-studded, pointed hat off his head and bowing low to the audience; his eyes caught Justin's and he winked just before he stood up straight once again and continued with his stilted comedic routine.

As the man stared back out at the audience and stated melodramatically, "Let's warm up with some _sword play - _I'm feeling kind of _kinky_," Brian hissed, "Well, _I'm _feeling kind of _predatory," _earning a _let-it-drop _look from the object of the man's desire sitting next to him. Justin reached over and quietly grasped Brian's hand in reassurance and squeezed it briefly before releasing it. As the two men on stage prepared for a duel after slapping each other with gloves, Brian couldn't help thinking, _You do that AGAIN, Sir Fancy Pants, and I'll slap you up the side of your head MYSELF…._

The show was blissfully over shortly thereafter as Brian quickly stood up, grabbed Justin's hand firmly and pulled him forcefully up the aisle toward the main path, as far away from _Sir Perfect_ as he could get.

"Bri-an," Justin complained breathlessly a few minutes later, as the brunet continued to pull him quickly down the path away from the swordsmen's stage. "Slow _down_," he beseeched his partner as he saw numerous shops flashing by them in a virtual blur as the older man continued to drag him down the makeshift village.

Brian _finally_ decided he had placed enough room between _Sir Perfect_ and his OWN idea of _perfect _before he at last slowed down to a more leisurely pace; Justin took advantage of the difference to stop and promptly plop down on a nearby wooden bench under a large shade tree. As he tried to force air back into his heaving lungs, he looked over at Brian, who eventually sat down cautiously next to him after making sure the seat was relatively clean.

"Well, this has certainly been an adventure SO far, _Sir Sunshine,"_ Brian announced after a short while. He peered over at his partner, who was shaking his head in exasperation.

Justin should have known this would turn out to be a disaster where Brian was concerned; this was certainly not his partner's idea of a good time. The only wood _Brian_ was interested in was NOT here in this godforsaken backwoods village, but back in their loft or in the backroom of Babylon. He figured, though, that that was why he _loved_ the man, because he WAS willing to do it for HIS sake – for a price later, anyway.

As Brian leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, he was abruptly interrupted by Justin practically shrieking, "Look! A _tarot reader!_ Let's go have our future read!"

"Oh, NO," Brian promptly snarled. "I am NOT going into some fucking _voodoo_ _tent_! The _near future_ is HORRIBLE enough!" He closed his eyes and leaned back again, dismissing the concept promptly out of hand.

"Ow!" Brian yelled in irritation as he shrunk back from the pointed, fingered jab in his side.

"Well, you didn't predict THAT," Justin maintained, pouting that he wouldn't get to hear what the future held for him and Brian. Right now, he really didn't NEED some fortune teller, though, to tell him that Brian's patience was quickly running out for this adventure; if he didn't get him preoccupied with some more _pleasant activity_ soon, the man would surely bolt, with or _without_ him.

He looked around for a possible solution before finally deciding on a specific target. "Brian," he said softly in a sexy tone of voice. "You want to go try the _King's Nuts_?"

He watched, amused, as Brian's eyes lit up at that provocative question. "_King's Nuts? Where?"_

Justin curled his lips under to keep from laughing; _you are SO easy, Kinney_. "Come on, I'll _show you_," Justin practically cooed, standing up and extending his hand out to his partner, who, after a few seconds, warily reached out and grasped it.

As they strolled hand-in-hand, oblivious to anyone's stares, Brian looked around for their destination. His eyes finally settled on a crudely-made sign swinging above a shop that sold roasted almonds. "THIS is the _King's Nuts_?" he retorted in utter disenchantment as his mouth hung open in revelation.

Justin chuckled softly. "Well, almonds ARE nuts, you know," he pointed out as he walked up and handed the young girl $3.00 and received a paper cone full of the cinnamon-laced treat. "Mmmm," he hummed as he popped a couple in his mouth and watched as Brian scowled at him from a few feet away before turning around in disappointment.

As he walked back to his partner, who had his back turned away from him in disgust, he placed his free hand around Brian's chest and stood up on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear huskily, "Don't fret, _Sir Kinney_, when I'm done with MY nuts, I'll take care of YOURS." He was rewarded with a turn of the brunet's head and a knowing leer as he finally smiled back in return.


	3. Who's UP for a little Humping?

Thirty minutes later, the two boys emerged from behind a large hickory nut tree in Pittsburgh's version of _Sherwood Forest_, Justin still munching away on the remnants of his "King's Nuts" while Brian's face displayed a smile from his own tasting of _Justin's_ nuts. Brian had decided that at least the day had now become just a little more palatable, although he _still_ wasn't very fond of those damned tights; they were much too hard to get off when HE was hard, and the little twat _still _looked much too hot in them when he had them ON…

As he glanced over at his own little version of _Robin WOOD_, he dreaded the question on his lips, but he HAD to ask; after all, he HAD agreed to this fiasco, in a moment of weakness, anyway…..

"So where to _now_, Sir Spandex?" he quipped; as they slowly meandered down a dirt path in front of various shops, Brian watched with amusement as Justin tossed the empty paper cone that had held his almonds in a nearby wooden trash barrel and efficiently whipped out a brochure from inside his open-necked shirt to quickly skim over some information. He watched as the blue eyes studied the guide intently as if he were cramming for a college exam instead of reading over some slick advertisement.

He noticed with extreme wariness that Justin's eyes lit up as he apparently honed in on something particularly astounding. _This could be bad – VERY bad….._

His fears were well-founded as Justin suddenly burst out with the words he never thought he would ever hear…

"CAMEL RIDES!" the blond practically screeched in excitement as he turned to face Brian; his slender, little blue legs jiggled up and down, along with _another_ delicious part of his anatomy, as a _different_ part of BRIAN'S anatomy – his _face_ – turned almost blue in horror…

Brian quickly grabbed his very own of version of _Justin in the Box_ by the upper arms as he tried to knock some sense back into the animated blond.

"Are those tights cutting off the circulation to your BRAIN?_! _ Read my lips, _Sir Not on Your Life! _I have _never been, _nor will I EVER be, on a fucking _camel ride_!" He snarled testily, shaking his head in contempt. "The only humping _I_ do is in your _ass_!" _Just when he thought he had heard it all coming out of those pink, plump lips…A CAMEL ride?_

Somehow he just KNEW, though, that his last statement was a mistake as soon as it fell from his lips, because his own little _Sir Bubble Butt's_ face flashed a mixture of emotions – first one of disappointment and then, more ominously, one of anger with maybe just a pinch of retaliation. _No, definitely not a good sign at ALL… _

As he suspected, he discovered he was right as Justin wrenched himself free and retorted, "Well, if you don't lighten up just a little, _Sir High and Mighty, _your source of humping might just be _riding back into Sherwood Forest!"_

Brian looked from a determined, stubborn Justin over to the nearby camel pens, where two enormous-looking, furry light-brown creatures stood hunched over, apparently chowing down on some hay as they awaited their next victim_, _er…._passenger_. Not stopping to even consider how large a _camel patty of shit_ must be, he sighed in defeat, ruing the day that a certain blond devil had come into his life, a life that would certainly never, ever be dull again. _I am so fucked….. _

Justin watched, smugly, as he noted the change in Brian's demeanor, from righteous indignation to resignation. He didn't even have to hear Brian's reply out loud to know he had yet again emerged victorious as he smiled and took the extremely reluctant brunet's hand to pull him firmly toward the ticket booth.

Tickets purchased shortly thereafter – amidst Brian's grumbles over forking over _ten _dollars for the privilege of an unwanted foray into bestiality – they were standing next to a burly-looking ride attendant who looked like an escapee from the palace dungeon. As they waited behind a fenced-in area for the chubby man to walk over to the nearest camel and slowly lead the giant beast closer to them, Brian muttered, "Maybe if HE participated in some humping of his _own_, he'd be able to _lose_ some of that beer gut."

"_ALE gut_, Sire," Justin quipped in his fake accent, chuckling softly as he earned a small jab in his OWN gut in return.

"Since when did knights ride camels instead of _horses_, anyway?" Brian grumbled in Justin's ear; he winced in disgust as the smelly beast – he wasn't sure if he meant the animal or the ride attendant – approached them.

The dark-haired man muttered, "Stay back until he kneels down. Merlin can be temperamental when he hasn't finished his meal."

"_Merlin?"_ Brian repeated, rolling his eyes.

The man smirked with a lopsided smile. "Yeah…..they think the name's _cute; _the other one's named Guinevere – damned animals don't care WHAT you call them, though, as long as they get fed before they're ridden."

Brian curled his lips under and grinned. "Yeah….I know how THAT is…..."

Justin smacked him in the arm before whispering, "Correction…..You KNEW how that is," he warned quietly_. _The ride attendant cast a curious eye at the intimate exchange but decided to just let it drop; in HIS business, he had pretty much seen it all by now, anyway…..

Brian warily eyed the bug-eyed beast trying to stare him down defiantly. "Just…..just how tall IS _Merlin_?" he asked the attendant a little guardedly, as the camel slowly lowered his neck toward the ground for his passengers to embark.

"Oh…..he's one of the _taller ones_. About ten feet," the man said nonchalantly. "You can both ride together, if you're afraid." He studied Brian's lean frame before adding, "You ARE kind of scrawny. Probably'd be better for you."

Justin snorted in mirth as Brian bristled at the man's patronizing words, highly insulted. "_Afraid? Scrawny? _Well to YOU_, ANYONE _would be….."

"Ow!" he snarled, startled, as Justin warned him with a sharp jab to his side. He glared at Justin briefly, before reconsidering his comment; after all, their lives were about to be placed at the mercy of _Sir Roly Poly_ and his sidekick, Merlin. "Okay, okay," he acquiesced grudgingly, skulking at his partner. "Maybe riding together would be best – it's what I'm _used to_, after all," he bantered, waggling his eyebrows at Justin suggestively.

Justin pursed his lips together to keep from laughing before he abruptly gave Brian a nudge toward the animal. "Well, get your _scrawny ass_ up there, Sir Kinney! Don't you know _anything _about riding etiquette? The tall one always goes _first_!"

Brian turned around and smirked. "At least you got THAT right, Sir _Cocky_," he muttered in Justin's ear before winking at him. As the animal docilely laid his giant head on the ground – to Brian's enormous relief – the brunet gingerly stepped over to the stirrup on the animal's side. Before he placed his "scrawny" leg into the guide, he turned to Justin and asked politely, "One hump or _two_?"

Justin laughed. "Two….._definitely," _he playfully answered, flashing him a beaming smile.

As Brian looked over back at the animated, delighted face of his partner, he was reminded again of just why he was always subjecting himself to these indignities. _That_ was what made it all worthwhile – making his own little _Sir Twat_ happy….He reminded himself to remember that after they got off and he had to hobble down the dirt path due to his sore ass – and NOT as a result of something pleasurable for a change….

As he pulled himself up by the stirrup and sat on a blanket on top of the lumpy beast, he gazed back at his partner. "Well? What are you _waiting _for, _Sir Balderdash_? Hop on! There's a hump over here with your _name on it!_" He patted the spot on Merlin's back just in front of where he was sitting in an invitation to join him, noting with some satisfaction that Justin wasn't exactly rushing over now to accompany him. "What's the matter, _Sunshine?" _he mocked the blond, who stood there, a little alarmed at just how large the animal was. "Did you forget your camel armor back at the castle? _Merlin _wouldn't hurt you, little boy," he said tauntingly as he flashed his eyes in challenge. "Now take it like a good little knight and GET OVER HERE!"

"Humpff," Justin replied, indignant as he began to walk closer to the camel. "I was just waiting for you to get your _scrawny little ass _situated properly."

As the blond walked close enough to place his foot in the stirrup, he reached out his hand toward Brian for help. Brian briefly thought of some _other_ activity he could perform at the moment that involved his partner toppling over the camel to land on his ass on the other side, but finally thought better of it; something told him if he did, somehow he would no doubt live to regret it later, probably about the time he was getting decidedly horny for a piece of a certain blond ass and didn't wind up getting it.

Instead, he rather accommodatingly reached down to grab Justin's hand and swing him up to sit in front of him between the two humps. "I never thought I'd live to see the day I was humping you on a camel, Sunshine," he whispered hotly in Justin's ear as the blond blushed in embarrassment. Even though Brian couldn't understand how his partner could still get embarrassed over sexy talk between the two of them, he still thought it was adorable as hell. He wasn't about to tell HIM that, though….He figured the man had enough ammunition already….

"Okay," the ride attendant instructed Justin. "Make sure you hold onto the reins tightly, especially when Merlin stands up. You're going to be several feet off the ground and it's a pretty rough ride."

"Don't worry, we're USED to rough rides," Brian assured him rather arrogantly, just before he almost had the breath knocked out of him when the attendant said "UP," and _Merlin_ abruptly did just that.

"Whoa, _Merlin!_" Brian shouted, startled as his whole body bucked off-center; as Justin grabbed the reins for dear life and held on tightly, his hands white with the strain, Brian cast all pretense of macho decorum aside and promptly wrapped his arms around Justin's waist as if they were a vise.

"Brian, I can't _breathe!"_ Justin complained; his words came out rather raggedly since a certain brunet was practically crushing his lungs at the moment as Merlin began to pick up a little speed and almost began to _trot _around the large fenced-in enclosure. Apparently _Merlin _didn't speak English – Elizabethan or otherwise - as he continued to completely ignore Brian's entreaties to stop and obliviousy kept going.

Justin finally let out a whoosh of air as Brian reluctantly loosened his hold somewhat to allow Justin to regain his normal breathing pattern. Thoughts of what his epitaph would be on his gravestone as he died from head trauma after being thrown off a camel (_Here lies Brian Kinney - He died what he loved doing – humping), _Brian heard the attendant frantically calling Merlin's name as he ran up and managed to grab part of the reins from Justin and miraculously slow the beast down to a more normal canter before, after several commands of "_Stop_" and "_Whoa, Shabib!_" (Shabib?), the camel _finally_ came to an abrupt stop, nearly pitching both Justin and Brian completely off in the process.

As the now-identified _Shabib_ slowly lowered his head once more for the two shaken men to disembark, both appeared to be drunk as they staggered off the beast and painfully limped toward the exit gate. Brian rubbed his ass in an unsuccessful attempt to regain some circulation as he tried to determine if the most prized part of his anatomy was still fully functional in front; Justin followed closely behind, trying to decide why he had thought it was such a great idea to come to the Renaissance Festival in authentic dress - specifically, tights that had not protected his rather tender ass at all while experiencing the joys of riding _Merlin, the Magnificent_.

As soon as they had emerged back onto the village's dirt path, both made a beeline (albeit a fairly _slow_ beeline) for a nearby bench set underneath a large, shade tree. As they painfully both sat down with mirrored sighs of relief in the knowledge that they were finally back on terra firm once more, Justin closed his eyes and leaned his head against the large tree trunk.

He didn't bother to open them as he heard his partner quietly threaten, "If you _ever_ bring up humping _anything_ other than your ASS ever again, _Sir Ye of Little Common Sense_, I will personally find a REAL moat with REAL crocodiles and personally FEED your sweet little ASS to them _myself_! Got it?" Brian would have liked to have fixed his partner with a glare of death to emphasize his threat, but at the moment he was too tired – and too stiff (but unfortunately NOT in a good place), to even be able to open his eyes with the right amount of hatred, so he just settled for hoping his voice carried the right amount of force to make his wishes abundantly clear.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because Justin was too tired to open his eyes at the moment, either. "Got it," he whispered fervently, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He couldn't help smiling a little, however, as he felt a familiar hand snake over and interlock their fingers together before he leaned his head on Brian's shoulder and sighed in contentment as he drifted asleep.


	4. The King Emerges!

The harsh blare of a loudspeaker jolted Brian awake approximately 15 minutes later. "Attention, wenches and sires! The Men in Tights contest will be taking place in fifteen minutes at the Reveler's Stage! All contestants – please report to the back stage area immediately!"

"What?" Brian mumbled as he was startled awake from his slumber; he had been dreaming of doing some vigorous humping with a certain blond that did NOT for once involve camel fur or a putrid smell. As he dreamed he was puzzled, however, to realize their activity had not been taking place inside his loft but rather in what appeared to be a stable of some sort.

He could remember fucking Justin senseless on something that looked like straw or hay; it wasn't his typical fucking environment, but it didn't seem to matter to either of _them_ – they seemed quite happy since he had apparently convinced his Little Boy Blue to get rid of his tights once and for all. Brian had been so intent on peeling them off the little scamp that he had simply ripped them violently off the pale legs, wadded them into a ball, and threw them several feet away where they landed at the feet of a large, evil-eyed looking ram. _Well, the ram part fit at least…._

Now that he was fully awake, however, he realized the reason why his dream had been so strange. They weren't anywhere _near_ the loft, or even civilization; they were still at the damned Renaissance Festival, and Sir Tight Twat was STILL wearing those pale blue leotards that seemed to be painted onto his slender body. Brian turned his head slightly to observe the aforementioned man slumbering against his shoulder; somehow, despite the cacophonous sound that had just screeched from the loudspeaker, Justin had still managed to stay asleep. Well, if Brian was going to be tortured at this fucking monstrosity, then so was HE.

He nudged the blond's shoulder firmly. "Justin! Sir _Ne'er Do Well_! Wake UP! You're missing your cue!"

"Huh?" Justin unintelligently mumbled as he squinted his eyes shut against the sun now peering through the late afternoon leaves. "It's too early to get up," he complained as he tried to snuggle deeper into Brian's warm, soft shoulder. It wasn't the typical pillow he normally used, but at the moment it felt wonderful nonetheless.

Brian rolled his eyes before he poked his own little _Lords of Sleeping_ a little harder. "Wake UP, Justin! It's time for your big debut!" he growled loudly, finally succeeding in waking his partner who lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes in disorientation. It took Justin several seconds to realize where he was before he looked over at Brian somewhat sheepishly. "Oh," he said. "I must have dozed off….._What_ did you say?" he asked, blinking his eyes toward slow awareness.

"You're about to miss what we CAME here for, Sir Twinkie! They just announced the Men in Tights contest! So get your tight little bubble butt off this fucking bench and get OVER there!"

Justin instantly came to life at this announcement. "Shit! Where? Where do I need to go?"

Brian was tempted to tell him precisely where to go but bit back his response. He was also tempted to direct his partner somewhere completely opposite to where the loudspeaker announcer had indicated they should go; the last thing he wanted was his lover prancing around in that too-revealing outfit while both men and women alike would be drooling over him. Unfortunately, he was prevented from doing that due to two things: one, he didn't have any idea where the "Reveler's Stage" was so he didn't know where the opposite _direction_ would be, either, and two, the sooner Justin got done with his stage performance, the sooner they could leave this grown-up version of dress-up hell.

He sighed in resignation; he figured there would be additional announcements about the contest anyway, and besides, something told him the location was listed in the brochure that Justin currently had hidden down his pale, smooth chest, which was STILL displaying way too much luscious skin for HIS taste. _You just remember who that skin BELONGS to, Little Boy….._

"Brian? Where is it being held?" Justin almost demanded as he stretched his arms above his head; unfortunately, that movement only served to make a certain part of his partner's anatomy stand even MORE at prominent attention. Did the man have to be so blatant?

Brian couldn't help glancing down lustily at Justin's perky little (all right, maybe NOT so little) cock, a movement that wasn't lost on his partner, who actually, to Brian's disgust, smirked in smug satisfaction. One side of his mouth turned up in glee as he had the gall to WINK back at the brunet, who snorted.

"Don't flatter yourself," Brian warned defensively, his brows narrowing. "Just because you're going to prance around in those leotards, _Sir Prissy_, doesn't mean you have to GIVE it away." He almost had to look away to preserve his eyesight, though, because his partner's beaming, radiant smile almost blinded him. _Little fucker. __He knows EXACTLY what he's doing – he always knows…._

He sighed, resigned with having to play along. "It's being held at the Reveler's Stage, wherever the fuck THAT is." He shook his head as he watched Justin quickly whip out the map previously hidden inside his v-neck, ivory-colored shirt and intently scan the map before his eyes lit up. "_There_ is it!" he cried triumphantly as he hurriedly stood; Brian noted that his previous sleepiness had miraculously seemed to have disappeared almost instantly – it was a shame something _else_ hadn't "disappeared" – if anything, someone's cock seemed to have gotten _larger _in those damned tights….

"Brian…" He heard a distinctive snicker as Justin said, "It's not polite to stare, you know." He once again smiled like the fabled Cheshire Cat, enjoying his partner's discomfort far too much for Brian's benefit. "You can stay _here _while I compete if it bothers you," Justin said gravely. His face was somber, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him.

Brian huffed. "No way, Sir Cocky…_someone_ has to watch your ass…..well, you know what I mean," he added somewhat clumsily. Shit, when did he convert into some awkward little lesbian?

Justin, however, didn't seem to mind at all; in fact, if Brian didn't know better he would say the man was totally _enjoying_ his discomfort. Yeah, that's what it was…..discomfort; he was just out of his element. It had absolutely, positively _nothing_ to do with the fact that his partner, the man he (gulp) _loved_, was soon going to be strutting around some stage for all the world to see – straight AND queer.

"Oh, Brave Sir, I am so grateful that you will be there to preserve my honor," Justin intoned, batting his eyelashes flirtily before he giggled.

Brian rolled his eyes before he possessively grabbed his partner's arm and pulled him against his chest. "Let's get this charade over with, then," he growled in the blond's ear. "And get that goofy grin off your face before I _take _it off."

Justin tried hard to press his lips firmly together to prevent the smile from appearing on his face, but he was having an extremely difficult time doing so – he was just enjoying this whole episode too damned much. "I'm ready," he chirped just a little too enthusiastically for Brian's taste as he quickly tugged the other man's arm and hurried down the dirt path toward the medieval, stone amphitheater.

Brian huffed in exasperation. "Will you fucking slow down, _Sir_ _Shag a Fag_? It's not going to take fifteen minutes to walk to the end of – what's the name of this quaint little street, anyway?"

"Trolls Crossing," Justin helpfully supplied as he glanced down at the map he held in his hand.

Brian snorted. "Well, _that_ certainly fits," he growled, as he peered around at the crowd quickly converging on the nearby stage. "If the guys I see around here had pointy hats, they would be naturals for a remake of Snow White and the Seven Queer Dwarfs."

Justin chuckled. "Well, that should just make my anointing as King of Tights that much easier," he remarked haughtily. "I can add that crown to my King of Babylon crown."

"_King of Tights?_" Brian snorted. "Is that like being crowned Fruit of the Loom Potentate?"

"Ha, ha. Just do your job and stay close by in case the crowd tries to rush me while I'm on stage. But be selective – if it's a hot guy, _I'LL_ take care of those types."

Brian shook his head – where had that little, scared 17-year-old blond twink under the lamppost _gone_? Oh, yeah – he'd been replaced with a hot, full-bodied, confident spitfire of a man who was much too sexy for his own good in those tights and satin shirt. He once again looked around for some sort of medieval weapon he could use against possible suitors…..where was a flail to swing when you _needed _one? He had never really been into BDSM much, but right now he could _use_ one of those studded balls and chains for a _different _purpose…..

"Attention! All contestants, please meet backstage _immediately_!" the announcer suddenly stated. "You have five minutes until those knobby knees are on _display_! Just a little court jester humor, lords and ladies," the man added, earning a few groans from the rapidly-increasing audience.

"Well, I guess this is it," Justin said nervously; his tone of voice sounded more like he was about to go on a world-wide tour rather than walk a few feet around the stage toward the back preparation area. "Better find a good spot so you won't miss anything," he said helpfully as if he were speaking to a potential client rather than his partner.

"Don't worry," Brian quipped. "I've seen it al l before, remember, _Sir Cheeky_?"

"Maybe YOU have, _Oh Lord of the Fucks_, but everyone _else_ hasn't, though," Justin pointed out. He turned around and gave Brian a slight wiggle before he began to walk back behind the staging area.

Brian couldn't help growling after him, "Well, Sunshine, don't put your gold nuggets in your tights just yet; you haven't seen the competition." But as Justin walked away from him, he couldn't help scowling at his partner's retreating form as he noticed the perfectly-rounded ass perkily staring back at him through those damned blue tights – those tights that molded so well to his petite body. _Yeah…I HAVE seen it all…And that's what I'm AFRAID of…._ He shook his head in disgust before finding a fairly splinter-free bench in the center of the seating section and sitting down; he elected to sit at the end of the row this time.

He had already learned his lesson during the sword playing fiasco; if "Burke Perfect's" twin brother abruptly appeared and made a play for his partner, he wanted a way to counterattack quickly. And as he peered at the other contestants arriving – some balding, some knocked-kneed, some paunchy, and some just plain old _ugly_, he knew he was in trouble…BIG trouble. Even in his weird, K-mart style clothing, Justin always seemed to turn heads, both homo AND hetero. In his Elizabethan outfit, however, his own little source of Global Warming was downright dangerous and oh-so-sexy.

As the seats quickly filled up with both men and women, Brian again felt out of place in his "normal clothes;" everywhere he looked, there were men wearing velvet cloaks, ruffled shirts, or knickers, while the ladies were wearing vibrant-colored layered dresses of gold, green, or red. Some even had pointy, Juliet-type hats or flowered garlands. He briefly wondered what in the world these people did for a living in the _normal world_ until he was interrupted from his musing by a small, brunet man rushing up to the stage with a stoneware mug in his hand. He was dressed in what appeared to be a yellow and red court jester outfit, complete with a tri-colored hat and a small bell jingling from it.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Knights!" the man enthusiastically called out to the audience. Strangely, the man appeared to be speaking into the mug instead of drinking from it. _Very subtle,_ Brian couldn't help smirking, although he supposed a microphone might sully the medieval effect. Perhaps back in those times, too, court jesters DID speak into their mugs – who knew? He noted the man also held some sort of corded stick in his other hand, embellished with multi-colored ribbons at the end in some grotesque resemblance of a magic wand. _Why don't you act like a REAL fairy and disappear_, came unbidden to his mind, as he grimaced at the flamboyant, clownish man that made Emmett Honeycutt look almost butch.

Feeling distinctly like a fish out of water, Brian heaved a barely-disguised sigh of annoyance as the man droned on. "We are about to start the Men in Tights contest!" he excitedly announced as the man almost chortled in glee. Brian thought the man looked and sounded remarkably like Woody Woodpecker as he continued, "Our contestants are busy backstage preparing for their entrance. The winner will be decided by your vote, so when the time comes, make sure you applaud for your favorite!" He quickly glanced sideways to the side of the stage before exhorting, "I'm told the candidates are ready for your inspection, so may the best tights win!"

Brian rolled his eyes – could this whole fucking day get any _worse?_ As he observed the first contestant walking onto the stage, he decided it probably would, because if THIS man was any indication of Justin's competition, he was going to have a big problem. Then again, to him no other man could ever hold a candle to his partner anyway...

"Get ready, ladies and lords, here comes Contestant Number 1!" their host bubbled, jumping up and down as his bell jingled in harmony. He edged back toward the rear of the stage to allow the first man, wearing a large No. 1 on the left side of his chest, to enter from the curtained side of the platform.

The first contestant – a tall, skinny blond – walked somewhat hesitantly onto the stage in a flowing, green filmy shirt with a lace crisscross tie in front that was loosely gathered; like Justin's outfit, the man was wearing tights but these were made out of a thicker, cotton-like fabric and did not cling as snugly to his lower body as his partner's did. Actually, it was a good thing, because this man needed all the allowance he could get – Brian thought his legs strongly resembled a stork. He wrinkled his nose up in disdain as the man smiled somewhat embarrassed while the crowd politely clapped.

The next contestant was an older man – probably in his 40's – dressed more modestly in a dark maroon cloak over his tights, which were made in a similar fabric as Justin's but did not reveal _nearly_ as much, partly due to the mid-length outer garment. The man somewhat awkwardly walked across the stage, barely stopping to acknowledge the clapping coming from the audience. Again, the men and women studying the candidates did not appear too interested in their latest contestant.

Several other men paraded across the stage, some tall, some average, some overweight and clearly uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny, and some who should have definitely remained fully clothed for the sake of the audience's delicate stomachs, until at last the jester called out the name Brian had been dreading – Contestant No. 12, his partner, Justin Taylor: _The Little Twink that Could_…and probably _would_, to his great consternation.

Brian's eyes about popped out of his head as Justin slowly paraded – no, make that _strutted_ – onto the stage from the left. If Brian hadn't known better, he would have sworn the man milking his appearance for all it was worth was actually an _actor_ in real life, because Justin was definitely playing to the audience. He was too sexy already in that much-too-revealing, silky, ivory shirt open at the neck and his ice-blue tights that were WAY too snug on his lower body, but the man had the audacity to flash a beaming smile out into the audience and give a sort of circular, royal-type wave to his adoring fans, who were clapping boisterously and whistling at him. Just for good measure, also, he pirouetted in the center of the stage so everyone could get a good look at him – ALL of him, coming and going. _Damn fucker….._Brian tried to telepathically transmit to his partner a warning of _Just remember who you'll be COMING with later, twat_, but by the look of amusement on his partner's face, he had a distinct feeling the man wasn't hearing him.

Brian felt his temperature rising and his face warming in anger at the suggestive comments being lobbied at his partner as the blond continued to slowly show off his wonderfully compact but oh-so-delicious body – his eyes widened as he observed a red carnation being thrown onto the stage by some beefy-looking, tattooed, dark-haired man standing and screeching out a wolf-whistle in the front left row.

Just like so many others, the man was dressed in period garb, but unlike most of the men, he was clad as a sort of leather-adorned version of King Henry the VIII. _Yeah, and I think you've had one too many stouts of ale, Spike_, Brian thought disgustedly as he noted the man's not-so-tight abs. If he ever got a hold of Justin, the man would have his partner's soft, creamy bubble butt crushed in a mound of blubber in no time. He shivered just at the mere prospect of it as he stood up and tried desperately to somehow flash a death-ray look at the would-be admirer while several "ladies in waiting" almost swooned in pleasure at the sight of his sexy _Sir Prance-A-Lot_.

He continued to try and transmit an icy state of death to all of the men and women ogling his partner, but it was no use; there were just too many present that were positively enamored with the blonde, golden vixen currently prancing around onstage and loving every minute of Brian's seething as Justin looked directly down at his partner and grinned smugly. Didn't these contestants have a time limit when they had to exit the fucking stage, anyway?

Finally, after what seemed like a interminably tortuous time period and several more flowers being thrown onstage later, Justin scooped up a virtual bouquet from all of his admirers and slowly disappeared behind the curtain to the right of the stage to Brian's enormous relief; the crowd, however, continued to clap, hoot, and even stomp their boot-clad feet in appreciation, yelling out disgusting phrases such as "Booty call, booty call!" and "Come back, Prince Cocky!" while the vein in Brian's neck pulsed with indignation and, yes, damn it, _jealousy_.

This was just too much like ANOTHER royal contest held several years ago at Babylon before Brian would ever come anywhere near to admitting he actually was bothered by these types of spectacles. When it came to his partner, however, he had finally given up on upholding that pretense.

Eight more contestants later, none of them coming anywhere near Justin in terms of stage presence or charisma, not to mention out-and-out horny sexiness, the court jester again occupied center stage as he called for all of the contestants to return and stand next to him to receive the audience's final vote of approval.

Brian knew it was a foregone conclusion who was about to win – he had no doubt about it. The audience would have to be blind not to realize who the hands-down choice was, and he _hated it_. There had been enough admirers staring at his partner today while they were exploring the makeshift village, but now it was going to be downright ridiculous. Plus, the little twat was going to be so smug, he would be damn near intolerable to live with now.

He watched in dread as the contestants walked back out in a single line to flank their host on either side. "Now's the time to crown the winner of the Men in Tights contest, sires and ladies!" the man said, laughing in an obnoxious way that made Brian's ears hurt. "As I point to the contestant, I want you to respond with your choice, so make yourself heard and make it LOUD!" he exclaimed.

Like a pending train wreck, Brian watched with trepidation as the host slowly walked in front of each contestant to lightly tap his wand on top of each man's shoulder to wait for the audience to respond with their choice of victor. Brian winced as he waited for what he knew was going to happen – the audience was polite or lukewarm in their acknowledgement of all the contestants until the host got to his partner, and then all fucking hell broke loose – a thunderous din arose from the crowd as the bawdy and rowdy group went totally berserk, screaming and yelling their approval as Justin for the winner.

"Well, it looks like we have our winner!" the host chortled, evoking an extremely unpleasant nightmare of another night that at once seemed like a century ago but also just like it had happened yesterday at Babylon; Brian watched as his partner was rewarded with yet _another_ crown on his blond little head as Justin beamed under all the lavish attention.

Brian shook his head and closed his eyes shut tightly, trying fervently to escape from his nightmare, but it was no use; when he opened his eyes once more, Justin was STILL standing there on stage in those outrageously-too-snug, blue tights, basking in the admiration of his _adoring court_.

As the contest was finally ending, Brian didn't even wait for all the men to exit from the stage before he quickly pushed his way up through the quickly-gathering throng of both men and women admirers to snatch his little _Royal Fucker_ off the stage.

He had to smack several hands trying to grope his partner from the first row of seats before he could leap onto the stage and reach Justin to grab his arm and begin pulling him toward the side exit to the groans of several erstwhile renaissance groupies waiting to fawn over their newly-crowned King. He gave a feeble wave of regret to his "subjects" as Brian ignored his protests.

"Brian, wait!" his partner complained as he was somewhat roughly dragged down the steps and out toward the dirt road. He had to quickly place one hand on top of his head to help anchor his crown more securely when it threatened to topple off.

"That was _rude_! They just wanted to pay homage to their new King," he chided the other man as Brian glared back at him. Justin was in heaven, though – he not only had a wonderful, shiny souvenir now of their adventure, but he was absolutely loving the look of possessiveness in his partner's flashing green eyes and his rough manhandling of him.

When they were finally safely out of sight behind one of the wooden storefronts, Brian finally released his hold on Justin and snarled, "The only one paying homage to that ass, Sunshine, is going to be ME! You got that, _Sir Rosebud?" _

Justin's eyebrows shot up mischievously and his curled his lips under in an attempt to keep from laughing at his indignant partner who was looking about as comfortable as a Mormon at a Studs-n-Suds party. Justin bowed low and replied in his cheesy English accent, "Yes, _Sire_, I definitely got it. My rosebud ass belongs to no one but you."

Brian raised his eyes to the heavens and sighed. Just once he wished he could go back to being the carefree stud he used to be instead of this jealous mound of insecurity. But then again, his life wouldn't be nearly as exciting as it was _now_ – ever since a certain well-endowed, stubborn, but adorable-as-hell blond had thankfully entered his life.

Brian looked at his partner wryly. "Just don't you forget that, _Prince Studly,_" he growled just before he grabbed Justin's shoulders and pushed his lips against his own for a deep, passionate kiss that left no doubt who was going to be enjoying the newly-crowned King's affections later.

As they breathlessly broke apart, Brian asked, "Now that you've been properly acknowledged by your adoring crowd, can we finally _leave _this fairy den? I'd like to escape while I have SOME dignity left, even though yours definitely disappeared some time ago – about the time we WALKED into this place."

Justin clucked. "Poor little Prince Brian," he cooed. "Let King Justin take you home and attend to your little sore ass properly, then," he suggested as he reached around the brunet to tenderly rub Brian's ass cheeks, producing a soft sigh of pleasure from his "man in waiting." Justin hastily added, "That is, as soon as I pick up one more thing on the way out."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Ah, NO…you've caused _enough_ of a stir with those _leotards, _Sir Tighty-Whitey!"

Justin's eyes flashed in annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It's on the way out, anyway, Brian! And it's not like I'm asking you to PAY for it, for fuck's sake! Lighten up a little, _Prince Burr up Your Ass!_"

Brian huffed in annoyance as he shook his head. He didn't dare let _Little Boy Blue_ out of his sight – not in THAT outfit, anyway – but his partner would be just stubborn enough to waltz off without him if he didn't agree to this last one request. "All right, all right," he growled. "But that's our LAST stop, Justin!

Justin shook his head in exasperation. "Yes, SIR, _Prince Stuffed Shirt! _Your order is my _command_!" And with that, he abruptly turned around, wiggled his tight little bubble butt at his partner, and walked back out toward the road, not even bothering to see if Brian was following him, because he didn't HAVE to – he just KNEW.

"Shit," Brian muttered as he grudgingly followed the blond back out onto the dirt road and kept a close eye on the blue-clad butt indignantly walking away from him and toward the exit. Just as they got to the gate, however, Justin turned toward the right and marched up to a wooden vendor stand titled "The Queen's Pub."

As Brian observed his partner closely (actually standing guard if truth be told), Justin handed over some of his cash to the "wench" serving him behind the window; it didn't fail to escape Brian's attention that the redhead was eyeing his partner like he was a delicacy at King Arthur's table before, a minute later, Justin took something that she passed through the window; it wasn't until his partner had turned around, though, that he was able to tell just what it was.

"Oh, my God," Brian retorted. "Uh, uh, uh…..no way….You are NOT getting in my 'Vette with…with THAT greasy monstrosity!"

"It's just a turkey leg," Justin pointed out as he began to slowly rip off some of the meat from the giant leg bone with his teeth as he walked; his licked his plump, pink lips together in appreciation as Brian's eyes widened, suddenly imagining Justin's teeth biting into HIM and his lips sucking HIS FLESH as he quickly forgot what he had been saying.

Justin smiled as he rapidly devoured the turkey leg and threw the carcass into a nearby wooden trash barrel. He seemed to take an inordinately long amount of time licking and sucking his fingers clean to rid himself of any residual grease as he made a loud popping sound each time a finger was sucked out of his lips.

"Stop that," Brian told him sharply. _Little teasing fucker…._

"Stop what?" Justin answered innocently with a sly smile as they finally exited the gates of hell.

"You KNOW what," Brian accused him. "Don't start something you have no intention of finishing, _Sir Twat_."

Justin's grin was a little wider now as he answered seductively, "Who said I didn't intend to _finish it_, _Sir Kinney? _Not everyone gets to fuck royalty TWICE, you know; just in case you're wondering, by the way, my tights aren't the ONLY thing that's _tight_…."

Brian harrumphed. "Well, get your _royal tight ass_ over to the car and we'll see just how fast I can get your _royal leotards off_." He gave the new King of Tights a resounding smack on one of his cheeks (not the facial ones, mind you) as Justin gave a little yelp of surprise and, laughing, sprinted toward the car with an amused – and highly appreciative – Brian closely following behind him.

* * *

_TBC - At least one more chapter/epilogue!_


	5. Born to Be Wild  QAF Style!

_The Next Evening – Loft_

Brian swung the heavy-metal door open to his loft and listened for any sound from his partner; the room, however, was strangely silent, even though he had spoken to Justin a little while ago to advise him he would be bringing home some takeout from the Diner. He frowned; Justin hadn't said anything about going out somewhere before he got home – where could the arrogant little twat be?

Ever since Justin had returned from his triumphant engagement at the Renaissance Fair, the man had been almost insufferable. Not only had he refused to be fucked until Brian agreed to wear that tawdry, garish crown on his own head, but the man had the audacity to insist on Brian being the _fuckee_ afterward while HE wore it (along with nothing but that damned pompous smile….). If those leotards hadn't made him so horny earlier, he argued to himself, he would have NEVER allowed Justin to take advantage of him like that in his fairly vulnerable, weakened state. Since he had managed to tear the blasted pair to shreds now, at least there would be no more tights to tempt him ever again….

_Right, Kinney_….He sighed as he realized the idiocy of that statement, because he KNEW better and Justin did, too, damn it...….

Well, thankfully his partner's grandiose reign as the King of Tights had come to a blessed end and he had gotten it out of his system; now at last they could get back to _normal_ fucking for a change. No more weird costumes or tights. No more court jesters or camels or jugglers…..not unless he got a hold of some cheap crap from Anita again and tried to twirl three chairs up the air like he did so long ago. Now if he could just figure out where the little imp had gotten to NOW….

"Justin? Where ARE you?" He called out in exasperation. He listened to any tell-tale sounds coming from the bathroom or bedroom but heard nothing. Placing two Styrofoam containers down on the nearby counter in frustrated irritation, he began to walk over to the refrigerator for some bottled water when, all of a sudden, he was startled by the CD player blasting on, apparently through the remote control; it was either that or a ghost was operating it, because no one was anywhere near the sound system at the moment.

An instantly recognizable song began to blare out as Brian shook his head in puzzlement at the familiar beat of the guitar pounding out the tune:

_Get your motor runnin'….Head out on the highway  
Lookin' for adventure…..And whatever comes our way  
Yeah Darlin' gonna make it happen…..Take the world in a love embrace  
Fire all of your guns at once….And explode into space_

_I like smoke and lightning….Heavy metal thunder_  
_Racin' with the wind….And the feelin' that I'm under_  
_Yeah Darlin' gonna make it happen….Take the world in a love embrace_  
_Fire all of your guns at once….And explode into space_

What the fuck? Brian winced and covered his ears as the song continued unabated with no sign of his partner.

_Like a true nature's child…..We were born, born to be wild  
We can climb so high….I never wanna die_

_Born to be wild….Born to be wild_

As the song began to wind down, he rolled his eyes. Now what?

"Justin! What the HELL is going…" The next words quickly died on his lips, however, as well as his irritation, when he spied his partner emerging from the bedroom, dressed in his newest form of attire.

Justin stood in front of the panes separating the bedroom area dressed head to toe in soft black leather. Brian's eyes widened in quickly-darkening, shocked lust as he slowly panned down appreciatively to take in the blond's billed cap, studded choker, black leather jacket and vest, and black chaps snugly wrapped around his slender legs all the way up to his thighs.

Brian was instantly drawn to Justin's waist which held the chaps up – the front was attached by a normal-looking belt, but from what he could see, the back appeared to be secured by a crisscross cord like a corset. He felt himself growing instantly hard as he noticed Justin had a matching black thong on underneath, which allowed his thick cock to be displayed most prominently, while highlighting his bare ass cheeks in the back. He had never really paid leather chaps much mind before, but now he found that he was quickly developing a definite appreciation for them as he admired the way they looked on his partner….

Held in one of Justin's back-gloved hands was a long, braided leather whip, which he was presently using to swish back and forth across his other palm. The contrast between the dark material and Justin's pale skin was strikingly sexy as hell; Brian's theory that his partner couldn't look any hotter than he had in those damned tights just went out the window in a heartbeat as he took in this leather wet dream standing in front of him….His mouth continued to hang open slightly as Justin slowly began to almost swagger toward him.

Brian didn't think he could get any harder or feel any hornier until he heard his partner's throaty question as he purred with a sexy smile, "Hey, Stud…Wanna take a ride on my _hot rod_?"

Despite his highly-charged body at the moment, Brian had to laugh in spite of himself. "That has to be the _cheesiest_ come-on line I've ever heard, Sunshine."

Instead of pouting or taking offense, however, Justin just shrugged casually. "Well, if you're not UP to the challenge, I'm sure I can find _another _rider who IS…." He raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge that he might do just THAT for a few seconds before he began to turn around toward the door…..

Brian smirked as he advanced slowly toward his partner, who began to pretend he was about to leave the loft. "Now hold on there, _Mr. Hot Rod_," Brian replied as he deftly reached out to grab Justin by the sleeve; his partner emitted a squeak as he as he tried to slide by. "I'm _definitely _UP to it."

He let out an appreciative whistle as he twirled the blond around to get a good look at his exposed ass cheeks peeking out perkily through the chaps. He forced back an attempt to reach out with his index finger and pull his little _Motorcycle Man_ back to him by the thong imbedded in Justin's crack as he replied, "Don't get your fucking chaps in a knot…..I'll be glad to hitch a ride with you….if you think your ass can _handle_ it. Do you have a current fucking license, little boy?" he asked, tongue in cheek…..he knew somehow that it wouldn't be the ONLY time tonight he had a certain tongue in a certain cheek, either, by the playful look he was getting from his irresistible little _Leather Lover_…..

Justin couldn't help letting out a soft giggle – he loved the moments when Brian could be as goofy as HE was. And he was getting hotter and more aroused by the second, just by the looks his partner was presently giving him. If he knew he could have gotten Brian this interested just by _looking _at him in this outfit, he would have ditched the tights a long time ago and just gone straight for this…

He pretended to reach in his pocket and whip out an imaginary license. "Yep," he announced. "Just renewed it last night, in fact. I'm good to go for at least another hundred fucks."

Brian snorted. "You've been watching my Peter Fonda movie again, haven't you? Although….I don't recall him wearing quite the same outfit," he supplied, letting out a ragged, lust-filled breath as he continued to stare hungrily at the startling contrast of black and ivory in front of him. He recalled that time not so long ago when Justin had "borrowed" his leather jacket to try and help him snare that crooked cop; the next morning at the loft, he had donned it again while they proceeded to have some hot, horny sex on his couch. And that was just with the _jacket_ on…something told him it was going to be even _more_ fun taking some of these other "accessories" OFF…

Justin reached out with his tasseled leather whip and slowly, softly stroked it along Brian's clothed chest, evoking a slight shiver from the brunet. "Didn't need to watch any movie," he advised huskily. "Actually, I just had the salesman strip it off the mannequin in the store."

Brian laughed at that statement, so like his partner. "Well, I'm glad you had such a good role model to imitate," he said, curling his mouth under in amusement. His eyes drank in the site of his partner's cock bulging out through the leather thong as he added, "That mannequin must have really been packing some wood. I bet somewhere out there, there's another mannequin grieving for the lost opportunity that _I'M_ about to enjoy."

Justin twisted his mouth mischievously. "And just what would THAT be?" he said innocently.

"Come here and I'll give you a taste," Brian growled softly as he reached out quickly to snatch the end of Justin's whip and pull the blond toward him hand over hand, just like he was climbing a type of sensual rope.

Justin giggled as he willingly allowed the brunet to pull him roughly into his embrace. Arms wrapped possessively around his little _Blond Biker_, he stared for a few seconds into the twinkling blue eyes before he moved his right hand to grab Justin's neck and angle his head to crash their lips together, the heat of his passion fueling his desire to practically melt into the other man's arms. He could feel Justin's leather-sheathed cock wantonly grinding into his denim-clad one, inciting his desire even more.

"You little leather tease," Brian scolded him breathlessly as they finally broke apart to come up for air. "When _I_ get done with you, your _thighs_ aren't the ONLY things that are going to be chapped," he warned.

His own little _Easy Rider_ apparently wasn't intimidated at all by that statement; on the contrary, if possible, Brian would have sworn his blue eyes twinkled in glee even MORE at the idea of what was to come. He knew that when it came down to it, Justin liked it just as rough as HE did, maybe even _more_….

"We'll start with that smart mouth, and work our way _down_," he growled hungrily, as he again smashed his lips against Justin's. As their tongues tangled in a familiar, sensual dance, his hands roamed all over Justin's chest before he deftly pulled at the strings that held the blond's vest together. As the cord fell away, exposing Justin's pale, slim chest, he couldn't help rubbing his palms up and down briskly on Justin's nipples as he heard the blond moan in pleasure at his torment.

As Brian tore his mouth away from his partner's, he bit down hard on Justin's ear as he whispered breathlessly, "You like that, don't you?" he said, his hot breath causing Justin to shiver in response. "You _like_ me taking possession of you. When _I_ get done, _Biker Boy_, that license will be down to _eighty_ fucks," he vowed, as he began to remove Justin's vest and jacket impatiently.

Justin couldn't help giggling again – he was really starting to enjoy playing dress-up. He had thoroughly relished wearing his blue tights to the Renaissance Festival – especially the fringe benefits they had provided him – but something told him _this_ new "outfit" was going to be even better…. "Ooh….I love when you talk like that…..maybe if you're a good boy, I'll let you be my _ole lady_….." He curled his lips under in an attempt to look serious but it was no use – he was having much too much fun as he watched his partner's eyes narrow in aggravation.

Brian liked sex play just as much as anyone – okay, MORE than anyone – but being compared to a girl – and an OLD one at that – was the last straw. "I'll show you _ole lady_," he snarled, just before he reached down and abruptly scooped Justin up onto his shoulders as the blond started in surprise. Brian could hear his partner's laughter as he carried him up by the legs toward the bedroom. Of course, knowing Justin's leather-adorned cock was bobbing perkily near his face didn't help his concentration much, but it really didn't matter – he planned on having the harasser unclothed and fucked in record time; he had no doubts that would finally shut the little cock tease up once and for all…..at least, he hoped it would...

As he reached the end of the bed, he deposited his _two-wheeled terrorist_ onto the mattress unceremoniously; Justin flopped on the bed like a leather fish that had just been thrown out of the water as he bounced a couple of times before finally landing solidly on the mattress. As Brian hurriedly began to remove his clothing, his breath caught in his throat at the tantalizing sight in front of him.

Justin's hair was mussed from their tongue duel earlier, his face was flushed and his lips, which had been thoroughly plundered by now, were red and swollen. As Brian hungrily raked his gaze down over his _Harley Honey_, he felt his whole body thrumming with anticipation. The dramatic difference between Justin's bare chest and his lower body, which was still sheathed in the leather thong and chaps, was incredibly sexy; as a small bit of Justin's tongue came out to lick his lips in eager response, Brian's cock hardened even impossibly further.

As Brian now stood nude and towered over him, his cock instantly broadcasting his intention, Justin once again blessed the cows that had given up their lives for his benefit, because his decision to wear leather – and then be divested of it – was quickly becoming one of his best ideas, even more than the tights idea, even though they had certainly had their purpose, also. He suddenly realized he was far too dressed for what Brian had in mind as he commanded, "Get down here, _Stud_, and hop on my _banana seat_."

Brian rolled his eyes in bemusement just before he placed his knees at the end of the bed and began to crawl like a predatory cat toward his special target – those snug-fitting leather chaps currently residing around Justin's thighs.

As Justin intently watched Brian lean down, his hard cock prominently swinging tantalizingly in his vision, he was somewhat disappointed when his partner slowly turned him over to gaze at the luscious, rounded, twin peaks being held partial prisoner by the chaps and leather thong. He leaned in toward the cord keeping his partner's chaps together, and with his teeth he grasped one end of the cord in his mouth and began to pull on it until it was untied. He couldn't help placing a few nips with his teeth on the now-exposed, creamy flesh.

As Justin shivered in pleasure, Brian paused to admire the ass that he knew – and loved to fuck – so well, before he reached out with his finger and teasingly plucked at the thin, leather strap nestled inside the crack; Justin arched up into his touch at the fleeting caress.

"It's time to _throttle up_, Evil Knievel," Brian quipped as he gave the thong strap one more pluck before turning Justin back over and beginning to unbuckle the belt holding up the leather chaps. "Time to _release the power_," he whispered huskily as he deftly undid the belt and impatiently pulled the chaps down over Justin's legs.

His eyes practically watered in desire as he gazed at the last obstacle to his ultimate goal – the leather thong snugly molded around his partner's well-endowed cock. Even though his own body was screaming for release, he battled with himself for control as he slowly began to slide the thong off Justin's slim waist and his eyes drank in the sight of his partner's smooth, pale flesh and the light, golden hairs surrounding his cock, which was at last exposed to his intense stare.

Justin groaned at the look Brian was giving him – the anticipation, the waiting was almost too much to bear, but he had no one to blame but himself; looking at the almost feral look on his partner's face, he knew the end result would be more than worth it, however, as Brian almost painstakingly dragged the thong and chaps teasingly against his skin, lower and lower down his thighs, past his knees and down his ankles until _finally_ he was completely unfettered at last.

Brian thought he might come right there as he feasted his eyes on his own little _Horny Harley-Davidson_ _rider_. They were about to go for a wild ride, all right, he thought, as he slowly slinked back up his partner's legs, propping himself up on his hands as he indulged in giving Justin a thorough tongue bath. As Justin instinctively opened his legs accommodatingly, Brian forged a wet trail from the blond's ankles, up to the delicate, salty skin behind his knees, up one side of his left thigh, and then, for good measure, down one side of the right thigh.

"Bri-an," he heard Justin whimper in agony as he tried unsuccessfully to rear up off the bed and provide his lover with a little guidance as to a certain body part that was being woefully ignored. Brian chuckled at his partner's tormented sigh of impatience as he deliberately ignored the not-so-subtle signal and huskily whispered, "Uh, uh, uh…..It's time for your _ole lady_ to play now…..don't worry, though, I won't ignore your _hot rod_ for long."

He continued his delicious trek upward, pausing to thoroughly tongue fuck Justin's belly button and receiving a ticklish giggle in return. "Think that's funny, do you?" Brian said, curling his lips under. "Well, _Little Boy Black_, let's see who's laughing _now_….." He abruptly leaned down and gave the blond's cock a long swipe on the underside with his tongue. Justin tried to buck off the bed as he felt the wet, thick, and curled organ expertly laving his cock with a thorough bath.

"Aaagghh!" was the only sound he could manage to utter as he writhed in exquisite torture; he was spun so tightly at the moment he couldn't find any sensible language to speak as Brian continued to lavish attention on his cock; his attempts to move were being thwarted by Brian's hands firmly holding his arms down at his sides as he suddenly began to see stars in his eyes. He felt the familiar tightness in his balls and his body clench in extreme pleasure before his body exploded into Brian's waiting mouth.

After getting his fill of the warm, creamy liquid, Brian slowly lifted his head in triumph and smiled up at his _Biker Babe_. "That was the _warm up_…..now for the thrill ride," he growled as he turned himself on his side and gently nudged Justin to turn over on his stomach.

Justin fought to control his rapid breathing from his climax as he obligingly turned over for round number two. He shivered as he felt the light, whispering caress of Brian's hand slowly traveling down his back as it inched lower to his buttocks.

Despite seeing this delectable view hundreds of times by now, Brian found the sight of the two, perfectly-rounded globes as breathtaking as ever; he marveled for a few seconds at how his partner's form could still make his body respond immediately, even now. He knew, however, that there was more at work than just his physical reaction to such beauty; his heart was involved as well. And he could never imagine not ever having this playful, passionate, sweet and intelligent man in his life.

He paused before slowly inching ever lower to his target – the soft, warm haven between Justin's ass, that little spot of heaven. As Justin intently watched with hooded, lust-filled eyes, he reached over and popped open the nearby tube of lube to spread some of the clear gel on his fingers. He noticed Justin's gaze following his every move as he returned to his delicious goal – poking first one, then two fingers inside the perfectly puckered hole until he had Justin moaning in pleasure and bouncing lightly off the bed in anticipation.

As he hit the sweet spot and heard Justin keening, he slowly pulled his fingers out and moved to prop himself by his elbows over his lover. He quickly tore the nearby condom package lying on the bed in two, and sheathed his own leaking cock as Justin waited impatiently, reaching back to place a pale hand on his lover's thigh in a silent plea for him to hurry. Brian couldn't help reaching down to kiss the pulsing, puckered hole as Justin gasped before he gathered himself into position.

As he finally sunk his leaking cock inside the warm, taut cavern and Justin groaned at the initial contact, he leaned down and whispered, "You _really_ ARE the King of Tights, Sunshine." He began to grunt as he moved rhythmically in and out and Justin soon rose on his hands and knees to meet his forceful thrusts.

It did not take Brian long before he felt his body tighten and explode inside his lover as they both collapsed back onto the bed. After several seconds, Brian finally rolled to the side and disposed of the condom, flopping back onto the bed on his back like a spineless jellyfish, fully sated as his body struggled to come down from the incredible high it had just experienced. _Born to be wild, indeed_, he thought, smiling to himself.

As Justin lay there, panting beside his lover, he finally turned on his side to face the brunet. "That was….incredible," he breathlessly whispered, smiling as he reached over to push back some sweaty hair from Brian's brow.

Brian smirked and stared at his lover, proud of himself. "Yeah….I was," he said, tongue in cheek.

Justin rolled his eyes at his partner before giving him a small smack on his chest. "Well, I _helped_," he insisted. "And as I recall, I was supposed to give you a ride on my hot rod…..I didn't see that happening," he pointed out.

Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm _surprised _at you, Sunshine….You know we're not done yet….."

Justin twisted his face. "Who said we _were_?"

Brian laughed softly. "That's more like my little _Motorcycle Mama_."

Justin snorted. "Hardly, _ole lady_." He suddenly thought of something at Brian's mention of the word "mama." He turned to rise from the bed temporarily.

"Uh…..I thought you just mentioned giving me a ride on your hot little rod?" Brian protested as he watched with surprise as Justin began to walk away; he couldn't help, however, admiring the wonderful view, though, as Justin walked into the bathroom and came out a few seconds later carrying a wet, lukewarm towel to clean them off and a medium-sized, white gift box.

"Ah, ah, ah," Justin said as Brian attempted to take the box from him. "Patience, _ole lady_," he chided, as he placed the box down by the bed and began to clean the two of them off. He knew soon enough it would time for yet another round, but in the meantime, he wanted to show Brian something he had bought for him.

As he placed the towel in a nearby hamper, he made a point of reaching down to retrieve the box with his back turned away from his partner; he heard Brian's snort at his obvious attempt at seduction as he turned around with a smile.

"What IS that?" Brian asked warily, eyeing the nondescript-looking box in Justin's hands; after what had happened this week, an unmarked box instantly aroused his suspicions, although as much as he hated to admit, the week hadn't turned out ALL bad…it had definitely provided him with some mind blowing fucks with his sexy, albeit quite eccentric, partner.

Justin crawled back into bed and held the box out to his partner. "Just a little something I got for you at the Renaissance Festival when you went to the privy, Sire," he said in that disgustingly fake British accent. Brian had hoped since Justin had changed costumes now, the cheesy accent would have gone with it; apparently, however, that was not going to be the case.

"The _Renaissance Festival_?" he said nervously; just the thought of _anything_ associated with that horrid place was enough to make his imagination go into overdrive. "Did you have them wrap me up a dozen turkey legs to go?" he asked sarcastically, as he accepted the proffered box with extreme reluctance. "I don't smell any dead flesh," he observed.

Justin scrunched up his face. "Not hardly. It's just little something that made me think of you," he replied mysteriously.

"A chastity belt?"

Justin snorted. "You don't really want me to dignify that with an answer, do you? Actually, you might say it's just the opposite."

"A dildo made out of chain mail?"

Justin smacked him on the arm as Brian chuckled at his joke.

"Will you fucking just OPEN the damned thing?" Justin growled.

Brian looked over at his lover suspiciously; his partner's disinterested look immediately set off a warning bell, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Whatever it is, it'd better not purr, shit, growl, or utter so much as a _forsooth_," he warned, before he gingerly curled his fingers under the box lid and slowly, with great trepidation, opened the top.

He frowned as he noticed some white tissue paper on top. Slowly unfolding the wrapping, he looked in with some relief to notice it appeared to be some sort of cloth. Looking over at Justin, he noticed his partner was trying hard to keep from grinning but not quite succeeding.

He kept his eyes on his partner as he slowly picked up the red, yellow, and black plaid piece of fabric and held in up to examine it more closely. Justin watched as the dawn of comprehension finally registered in his partner's eyes.

"No fucking way, _Sir Nervy!_" he yelled back. "Why in the HELL would you buy me a _kilt?_ I would NOT be caught DEAD in a kilt! What were you _thinking_?"

Justin watched with amusement as his partner continued to spout indignities about his gift. Of course, he had expected that reaction all along, but he wasn't going to let _Brian _know that. "They're having Celtic Days at the Festival next weekend," he explained in between Brian's continuing vehement protests. "I thought after I had so much fun at the King of Tights contest, you should enter the Best Knees in a Kilt Contest." _Wait for it, Justin…..wait for it… _

Brian turned to face his partner, fire flashing in his eyes. "Get this straight, _Sir Hot Rod Tight Ass – _whatever the fuck you're going by now – I have NEVER, nor will I EVER appear in any public place with a damned fucking _skirt_! Not now, not EVER – you got it?" He raised his eyebrows and stared expectantly at his partner for the correct – the ONLY – response to be uttered from those plump, pink, oh-so-kissable lips. _Damn it – I am so fucked….._

Fortunately, though, Justin blissfully had other plans. "That's okay…..I had a much more _private_ party in mind," he told his relieved lover. "After all, I didn't buy the kilt for YOU."

Brian laughed softly. "You little _fucker_," he growled as he reached over and began tickling his little _Sir Horny_? _Sir Hot Rod_? _Sir Fuck a Lot_? Hell, it didn't matter, he decided, as he listened to the delightful sound of his lover's laughter at his hands. As he finally stopped his torment, just before he leaned in to steal a deep kiss to stoke their fires once more, he whispered, "Remember…..you still owe me a ride on your _hot rod. _And where did you put your whip?_"_

_

* * *

Thanks for going along for the ride with me!_


End file.
